


Take My Hand

by valkyriefowl



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyriefowl/pseuds/valkyriefowl
Summary: I would never, ever, be brave enough to do half the things annoying straight couples do in broad daylight. But not all of it’s bad. It’d be nice to… I don’t know, hold someone’s hand in the halls. Or the cafeteria. Just a little thing, I guess, but it’d make me feel more normal. Well, as normal as I could be.Is that too much to ask for?---Simon can't get Blue out of his head.





	Take My Hand

It’s the second week of emails when Simon catches himself doing it. He’s daydreaming in math, which isn’t at all unusual for him. Head resting on his hand and staring out the window, his mind starts wandering away from the stuffy class. Wanders all the way over to him.

To Blue.

Blue, the boy Simon has been secretly emailing for just over a month, and who Simon has no clue as to his actual identity. Blue, who Simon’s idle brain has decided to fixate on. He’s imagining holding hands with him under the table and gently rubbing his knuckles with his thumbs. It’s not until Nick leans over that he feels the heat in his cheeks, and his face is fixed in this stupid smile.

 

“Dude, are you ok? You’ve gone all red,” Nick whispers. Simon jolts back into reality, and shakes his head quickly, focussing on the board, and where their stressed-out teacher is handing out their homework pages.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just… a little hot in here, you know?” He mutters back and smiles up at the teacher when she places the paper down on his desk.

“Aw shit.” Nick hisses from his left, and as he actually pays attention and reads the paper, he can’t help but echo the sentiments in his head.

 

“Hey, I’m going to go get my stuff and meet up with Abby, ok? I’ll see you at the lunch table.” Nick says, barely registering Simon’s vague noise of affirmation before power-walking out of the door along with the frantic stream of the rest of the class. Simon’s still hung up on the imaginary feeling of Blue’s hand in his, when the teacher suddenly looms over his desk.

 

“Hey, Simon,” she says, and Simon looks up at her.

“Yes, Ms Thomas?”

“You know,” she says, a gentle smile on her face, “if you’re having trouble with the material, there're tutorials in the library every Wednesday if you need them.”

Simon understands the material fine.

“Thanks. I’ll… think about it,” he says, and nearly runs out the door.

 

Lunch is cold and chewy and pretty much the usual, but as Simon glances under the table to stealthily check his phone for any new emails he can’t help but notice the couple the table over, holding hands and feeding each other fries.

“What’re you doing?” Nick asks leaning over the side of the table to check out his phone. Simon’s head darts up.

“Nobody! Uh, nothing! I wasn’t…” Nick chuckles, and elbows Abby.

“Simon’s checking his phone in school time.” He leans over his tray. “Must be someone real special if you’re willing to get caught.”

Abby gasps and smiles and her eyes get a terrifying glint in them. Simon turns to Leah for support, but she simply raises an eyebrow, smirking. He slips his phone into his pocket and drums his fingers on the table.

 

“Hey, since when did the two of you start sitting together constantly?” He says, motioning between Abby and Nick with his drink bottle. Abby laughs and Nick’s mouth gapes open.

“Trust you to try and deflect! I see what you’re doing Spier, but next time I won’t go so easy,” Abby says, picking up her drink and taking a sip.

“Leah, help me out here!” He says, but Leah shrugs and looks away.

“Let me in on the gossip and maybe I can help you out,” she says, and Abby cheers.

“Speaking of help,” Simon says, rerouting the conversation away from secret email boys and back into safe territory, “can we get together to work on the homework page Ms Thomas gave us? I have no idea what she’s on about.”

“That’d be because she taught it this lesson, and you were too busy daydreaming to pay attention. I’ve got practice, but I can text you photos of my notes?” Nick says, and Simon smiles gratefully.

“Dude, that’d be awesome, thank you.”

 

\---

 

 **FROM:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **TO:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Re: it can’t just be me, right?

I feel the same too. It’s like everyone else is behind a pane of glass and I can’t quite break through. Even when I’m with my best friend it still feels like there’s a disconnect. But I’m sure we’ll both break through that wall with other people someday. And, in the meantime, we understand each other. That counts for a lot.

And yes, on a completely unrelated and not-at-all deep note, I totally agree with you. The school should subsidise the cafeteria for Oreos. How else will the students get a full and balanced meal?

-Blue

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Hands

Blue, you really know how to make a guy feel better. I guess I forget life isn’t as small as high school sometimes. It’s almost reassuring to think that in less than 2 years this will all be done. But it also pisses me off to know I’m gonna miss out on a ton of huge parts of the high school “experience”.

Like how straight couples are so obnoxious about dating and being together. I would never, ever, be brave enough to do half the things annoying straight couples do in broad daylight. But not all of it’s bad. It’d be nice to… I don’t know, hold someone’s hand in the halls. Or the cafeteria. Just a little thing, I guess, but it’d make me feel more normal. Well, as normal as I could be.

Is that too much to ask for?

-Jacques

 

 **FROM:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **TO:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Re: Hands

There’s this one straight couple in my homeroom that always makes out before, during, and after every class. Even when the teacher tells them to stop they always just keep going. How do they do it?

Don’t worry, Jacques. I’m sure you’ll find someone eventually. Anyone would be lucky to hold hands with you.

-Blue.

 

His heart jumps as he reads the reply. He bites back a smile, grateful to be alone in his room so no one can make fun of his blush. He rushes to reply, eager to tell Blue about the song he heard on Spotify, the funny story Alice told him from college, how he was feeling about school. Anything to keep the conversation going, and anything to spend more time with Blue.

 

 _It could be you_ , Simon thinks. But he doesn’t type it out.

 

It feels like Blue has permanently attached himself to Simon’s mind. He’ll just be living his normal life when the thought of Blue pops into his head. For some reason, he feels dirty, like he’s betraying Blue’s trust by thinking of him outside of their emails. He spends over an hour trying to casually drop it into his next email, and the response from Blue makes the time spent entirely worth it.

 

_I do it too, Jacques. I’m not so sure it’s a bad thing. Something tells me you’re just as beautiful in real life as you are in my head._

 

Simon’s eyes widen when he reads that, and he buries his head in his hands. He bites his lip and wills the angry red spreading across his face to disappear. That one sentence tied his stomach into a knot, and he wishes he could have heard the words in Blue’s actual voice. Not just on a screen.

 

He finds himself writing notes on his phone throughout the day of things he wants to send to Blue. Just little thoughts that pop up, ones he knows Blue would get a kick out of. But there are also things he makes a mental note of to never send.

 

Like how he was looking at Cal’s hair and imagined, unbidden, how soft it would feel against his hands or his bare chest. Or when Jack from English smiled at him in the hall, and he imagined kissing the corners of his mouth. Or how he stared at Cute Bram’s legs and imagined what they’d feel like wrapped around his waist.

 

Like how every time he imagines it he can’t help but picture Blue.

 

But he’ll never tell Blue. Because Blue isn’t ready for that yet. And Simon cares more about Blue than he does about the physical stuff. It’s been 4 years, he’s used to suffering in silence.

 

He keeps the promise to himself, mostly. When Blue writes such nice things to him he has to restrain himself in his reply. How could he possibly tell Blue how much his words affect him? How they leave his heart racing and his face red.

 

After the night of Bram’s Halloween party, he doesn’t try and restrain himself.

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** real life

I keep thinking about how you’d sound telling me all those nice things out loud

_Message deleted. Return to Inbox?_

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** real life

Is it bad I can’t stop wondering what you look like IRL? I’m sure you’re hot as fuck

_Message deleted. Return to Inbox?_

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

**SUBJECT:**

You probab;y have nice hands. i wonder what they’d feel likein my hair

_Message deleted. Return to Inbox?_

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

**SUBJECT:**

what makes you tick, Blue? what can i do to make you feel good? that sounds creepy i’ll stop

_Message deleted. Return to Inbox?_

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

**SUBJECT:**

i really wanna kiss you, Blue. maybe it’s because im trashed and lonely but i can’t stop thinking about it. what would you sound like? i bet you’d look beautiful

_Message deleted. Return to Inbox?_

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

**SUBJECT:**

i’m sorry, bLue. i’ve tried to write this email a thousand times and they always turn out more weird than the last. is that how i should even phrase it? youd’ know, youre a genius. a hot genius. and there we are again i’m sor

_Message deleted. Return to Inbox?_

 

None of the messages he types make any sense, and he’d die if any of them somehow found their way to Blue. He closes his laptop and pushes it out the way, flopping over in an effort to go to sleep. His brain doesn’t want to cool down, and his body thrums with energy.

 

Maybe he could just…?

 

Before he even completes the thought he scowls and shakes his head. Not even drunk Simon would go that far. So instead he opts to lie there, body tense and head pounding, before he drops into an empty sleep.

 

He wakes up the next morning to his dad mowing the lawns outside, the sun streaming in through his half-pulled curtains, and a trill from his phone.

 

Groaning, he pulls the covers up over his face, before he remembers what he tried to type before he passed out last night. He stiffens up the covers, and frantically sticks his hand out to feel around for his phone. Once he finds it he darts his hand back under the covers and turns on the screen. He regrets it instantly, and he hurries to turn the brightness all the way down. He’s still squinting when he reads the email.

 

 **FROM:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **TO:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Honesty hour

Jacques. I know this isn’t the best time to be emailing you but something in me just can’t wait until the morning. I want to preface this by saying I’m pretty drunk. But not drunk enough to not use the word preface? You said you liked smart people but I don’t think this is what you meant. Feel free to ignore this.

I’m at my friend’s house and he has this crush on a girl we sit with at lunch and he keeps going on and on and on about her and his drunken rambling made me think about you. And how I sometimes think about kissing you. And how when you told me about your Daniel Radcliffe phase and how you got all riled up it may have riled me up a bit too. I don’t know if you got this from any of my other emails but I think you’re really cute, Jacques. And I’ll probably regret sending this in the morning but I’m pretty sure you think I’m cute, too, and that’s the only thing that’s not stopping me from deleting all of this and hiding in shame.

Oh God, why am I about to send this,

-Blue

PS. Sorry about any typos my hands are big and i’m drunk

 

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Re: Honesty hour

When I woke up this morning I wasn’t expecting this but boy am I glad you sent this. Seeing as you managed to be so honest, Blue, I’ll put my brave pants on and say that I think about kissing you too. A lot. Probably more than I should.

This is probably the best email I have ever been sent in my entire life. I’m saving this for the rest of my days.

-Love, Jacques

PS. I couldn’t spot any typos, you must have done good enough that autocorrect knew what you meant. On an unrelated and completely inappropriate note, the thought of your hands is kinda really hot. I keep thinking about you running them through my hair.

PPS. I can’t believe I just told you that.

 

The daydreaming gets worse after the Halloween Incident. Every time a cute boy smiles at him the hallways he can’t help but smile back. He’s infatuated with the idea that one of them might be Blue. That Blue might mention something like he accidentally did with Mr Wise. That there might be some clues he can piece together to figure out this enigma.

 

 **FROM:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **TO:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com  

 **SUBJECT:** Disaster Strikes

Something unspeakable happened at our house today. I know what you might be thinking: is Blue ok? Is little fetus ok? Is the world ending? And, Jacques, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think it is.

We ran out of coffee at home today, and I had to buy it from a cafe.

They charged me $4! For a latte! That’s too much. How anyone could possibly spend that much on what essentially boils down to hot bean water. Apparently me, that’s who. My bank account is completely drained from my mother’s reckless shopping behaviour, and now I’ll never be the same.

Woe is me, Jacques. Woe is me.

-Love your now broke correspondent, Blue

PS. Don’t tell anyone, but it was actually really good…

 

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Re: Disaster Strikes

You’ve never bought coffee before? How are you even alive! My blood is permanently 65% coffee at all times now. You’ll probably go faint just reading this but I actually get coffee every morning. But that was waaaaaay too much for a latte. Where did you even go? You need an expert in coffee with you at all times. I wonder where you could find one? If could be a cute date with someone. Coffee is perfect for facilitating conversations. Just look at our emails!

-Love, Jacques

PS. Your secret is safe with me

 

Everything falls apart after Martin. He kind of gets it now, what Blue was afraid of. And he hates Martin for it. Everyone knows his secret and he has no control over anything anymore. And Blue, the one person he thought would always be beside him, could be gone too.

 

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Urgent

Blue, someone posted our emails on the Tumblr, and I’m so, unbelievably sorry. You have to understand that I would never, ever do anything to hurt you but you’re gonna know who I am when you get back. Please don’t leave, Blue, and please, as soon as you get a single bar of service, reply to this. I’m so fucking sorry.

 

 **TO:** bluegreen118@gmail.com

 **FROM:** hourtohour.notetonote@gmail.com

 **SUBJECT:** Re: Urgent

Blue? If you get either of my recent emails please reply as soon as you can.

 

He presses send, his finger trembling.

 

_Sender address invalid_

 

And everything in his world crumbles. He has no Nick. No Leah. No Abby. And, possibly worst of all, he has no Blue. Something inside of him snaps, and the tears start to fall.

 

He makes the post a few weeks later in a fit of hopeful desperation. It’s a call into the void, and one he fervently hopes won’t be in vain. He’s got Nick and Leah and Abby back, and they spend the whole ride to the carnival reassuring him he’s not alone anymore.

 

“And if that dude breaks your heart again I’ll…. I’ll punch him in the face!” Nick says, and Leah murmurs her agreement.

“I appreciate it but I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Simon says, but his knuckles are white around his phone and his jaw aches from being clenched.

 

“You’ll make it through this, Si. You made it through so many things before,” she says, before popping out of her seat to kiss his cheek. Abby gags and Simon grins.

 

The joy and adrenaline from the show and his friend’s support sustains him long enough for the handful of tickets he threw at the Ferris Wheel attendant to have half run out. Each time the Wheel stops to let new people on his heart leaps up to his throat. But no one sits down. They’re still there, Leah and Nick and Abby, refusing to leave the Wheel for long. It’s reassuring, sure, but it also feels like he’s being babysat.

 

The ride attendant’s shift finishes, and he’s still on the Wheel. The girl whispers to a lanky kid about how much longer he’s allowed to sit on, and for a few seconds he makes eye contact with her. She smiles awkwardly at him, and Simon rubs his eyes and turns his head away.

 

The lanky kid tells him when he spins around for the thousandth time he’s gotta get off when they next stop, and Simon can feel the anxiety that had been slowly building up in his chest finally break loose. He chokes out a noise that the kid takes as an affirmation, and he slowly begins his final circuit. It gets to the bottom of the ride, and the lanky kid opens the safety bar.

 

And Martin runs up to the stand.

 

Everyone else in the group that had slowly congregated over the night gasp in shock. To them, this is a horrible twist in the tragedy that is Simon Spier. Simon just feels numb.

 

“Simon, I’m Blue! I’m sorry that I-” Martin yells, and one girl neither of them knows starts babbling to her friend excitedly.

“No, you’re not,” Simon says.

“Yeah, I’m not,” Martin says, shoulders drooping. If Simon hadn’t met Martin before, he’d think he actually felt bad.

“At least let me… ugh… pay for another ride!” He says, fishing around in his pockets for enough change. He babbles to the attendant, who shrugs and turns away to get the ticket box for the money.

“Just go away, Martin.”

“Yeah, I’ll just, ugh, be on my way. Good luck Simon!” He yells, but Simon doesn’t see him leave. His eyes are suddenly swimming, and he turns his head away to try and blink the tears out.

 

The attendant comes back and goes to close to safety bar when someone suddenly runs up onto the platform. Simon refuses to let anyone see him dry his eyes after being strong for so long, so he sniffs and looks at the person.

 

It’s Cute Bram with the soccer calves. He’s smiling sheepishly, and Simon can see his trembling hands.

 

“Can I sit there?” He asks, and Simon’s still in shock.

“Actually, I was waiting for someone,” is what he blurts out, and in the back of his mind he knows it’s Bram he’s been waiting for but he’s so shocked he’s here brain is working on autopilot.

“I know,” he says, and when he sits beside him and Simon can feel the warmth of his body. Their legs are barely an inch apart, and their inside knees are pressed firmly together.

 

“It’s you!" Simon says, and his heart feels like it’s about to burst as Bram nods. They keep talking as the Wheel makes its final spin for him, but Simon’s barely registering any of it.

 

He’s been waiting and waiting for so long, and now it’s finally here his brain is slow like it’s clogged with honey. Bram smiles gently, and Simon finally leans in to press his lips to the boy he slowly fell in love with. They pull apart long enough for Bram to huff out a laugh, and for Simon’s heart to pull in his chest and back down to him. The Ferris Wheel slowly moves back around, and Bram lifts his hand up to hold the side of Simon’s face. Simon smiles goofily into the kiss. Bram moves his hand suddenly and moves it through his hair to the back of Simon’s head, where he pulls lightly, sneakily, invisibly as he brings his hand away. Simon’s eyes go wide and a shiver is sent down his neck and back. Bram smirks at him, but Simon isn’t mad at the glint in his eyes.

 --

Everything gets better from there. His mother always talks about the silver lining on the cloud, the darkness before the dawn, and Simon never really listens. But he has to admit, there’s actually some hidden truth in that statement. Because here he is, four months after Martin published The Post, four months after Blue deleted his email. Four months after his friends left him. He’s here, in this sunny park with Bram Greenfeld, cute soccer player and Simon’s real-life boyfriend. He can barely believe it’s his life, but here he is.

 

“Are you gonna finish that?” Bram asks, leaning on his shoulder. There’s a whole oreo left in the snack pack, and Bram’s licking his lips. This whole coffee and Oreo thing has become a holy tradition for them, and each week Bram takes him to a new place to make their own. When he first picked Simon up from Leah’s, where Simon had been under the guise of studying, he’d actually laughed out loud.

 

“You really…?” He managed to stutter out, before surging forward to kiss Bram. Something he could actually do in real life.

 

“Yeah, sure. I wasn't going to eat it anyway,” he replies. Bram gasps but takes the Oreo anyway.

“How could you not? I mean, not that I’m complaining,” Bram says, and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. He grins at Simon and Simon grins back. Everything is kind of perfect, and Simon wouldn’t change a thing.


End file.
